


breathe in my lungs

by infiniteoceansofblue



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 15:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18144185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteoceansofblue/pseuds/infiniteoceansofblue
Summary: Isak was born with a heart in his lungs.A parallel universe where Isak and Even meet under slightly different circumstances.Or, in which Isak is rather anxious, Even is sweet, Jonas is all-knowing, Eva is very into Noora, Noora is very into Eva, Eskild is the perfect gay guru, and everyone loves Isak very much.





	breathe in my lungs

**Author's Note:**

> this is about friendship and love and learning that you deserve help!! yay!!
> 
> please heed the warnings: descriptions of panic attacks, vomiting, internalized ableism, depressive episode, dissociation
> 
> isak uses "crazy" and other potentially triggering/derogatory terms about mentally ill people to describe himself and his mother. to be clear, it comes from a place of fear and internalized ableism, not hate, and i'm mentioning it here because this distinction is not touched on too explicitly in the fic.
> 
> title is from the beautiful song "breathe in my lungs" by big thief

Isak was born with a heart in his lungs. That’s what he thinks, at least, over and over, when his palms are soaked in sweat and his breath is caught somewhere halfway across the universe. His brain has never worked right, but it’s his heart that does all of the worrying. And so it sits like a tumor where it’s not supposed to, and so he can never breathe when he is supposed to.

 

“It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re here, you’re okay,” he whispers to himself. Eskild told him to do this after he found him choking on vomit and tears in the middle of the night a few months ago. _You’re safe, you’re okay,_ he’d murmured, pulling back Isak’s hair as he shook to pieces on the bathroom floor. _You’re here, you’re here_.

 

He doesn’t know if it works at all. It gives his mouth something to do other than trying to bite of his own tongue, but when he looks down at his hands and sees nothing but blurred skin over mismatched tile, Isak wonders if it is any better. If trying to be okay is doing anything other than stuffing him with more disillusionment. The darkest parts of him whisper things when he gets lost like this. Things that he inherited from his mother, and if shaky hands and a gnawing sense of the end of the world was written into his DNA, there’s no reason to pretend like he will feel any better.

 

But eventually, like all things must, the shaking passes. He can breathe again. His heart shutters awkwardly, but after awhile, it resumes its steady beat. He’s okay.

 

His head spins when he stands up, but he’s okay. And he’s too out of it to do much about the bits of vomit that missed the toilet, so he just wipes at it half heartedly with some bunched up toilet paper and watches as it all flushes down like nothing even happened. It’s strange how quickly he can get rid of the evidence of his misplaced heart and defunct lungs.  

 

He avoids the mirror as he washes his hands thoroughly with soap and gargles some water in his mouth. Eskild and Noora have not been shy in telling him that he’s not been looking too great, as of late, and he doesn’t want another tangible reminder of the absolute fuckery his life has been. It’s the nonexistence of sleep or the ticking time bomb just under his skin, telling him that the world is ending and he is the cause of it. Or both. Probably both.

 

The door swings open and he keeps his head down when another person passes by him to the sink. No matter how many times he splashes his face with water, he looks as sick as he feels, and people are far too open about pointing out how messed up he looks in bathrooms.

 

After a moment of silence, the other person says, “Hey, are you okay?”

 

Isak looks up. It’s a boy he doesn’t recognize. Tall, with swoopy blonde hair and concerned eyebrows. There’s something about his blue eyes that makes Isak think he should know him. But he doesn’t. “Uh, yeah,” he mutters, then clears his burning throat, suddenly warm and sweaty again. Of course the random guy he bumps into in the bathroom is actually beautiful. He fishes awkwardly through his pockets until he pulls up a loose piece of gum that he snatched from Magnus a few days, and pops it into his mouth.

 

“Are you sure? Sorry, but you look a little bit… um. Not okay.”

 

Isak tenses. Vague annoyance simmers to the surface and clashes harshly with his headache. He opens his mouth to snap in defense, but before he can say anything, a wave of dizziness slams into him so out of the blue, he gasps and clutches onto the counter to keep from collapsing onto the ground. Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with him?

 

“Woah, woah.” The guy grabs his arm to steady him and Isak flinches before he can tell himself to be still. The concern is so jarring in those blue, blue eyes. “Sit down before you pass out, okay?”

 

He shrugs the hand off his arm and straightens, even though everything in him aches to lie down on the floor and sleep for a hundred years. “I’m fine,” he says, through gritted teeth and the incessant pounding of his head. Lunch will be over in a minute - he has two to get to Biology and he can’t be late, not on a lab day. He’s fine.

 

“Let me walk you to the nurse or something, yeah?” he says, gently, like Isak is a wounded animal that will startle and run away if he speaks too loud.

 

“No, no, it’s fine, I’m fine.” He needs to get out of here. He has Bio. Or was it Chem? He can’t be here, not when this unfairly attractive guy is looking at him _worried_ , with those blue eyes. “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbles, already backing away towards the door. “I have class.”

 

“Wait-”

 

But Isak is already gone.

 

+

 

It’s just Jonas and Isak, tonight. They’re sitting on the floor of Isak’s room, watching shitty television on his laptop and sharing a beer and fucking around. It’s been a while since it’s been just the two of them. When they were little, it seemed like every night was an exact replica of this. But over the past few years, Jonas had girlfriends and Isak had jealousy and an awkward crush and their friendship suddenly became something sour. And then, after it repaired itself, Magnus and Madhi joined their group, making it the four of them, drinking beer and smoking and hitting up parties every other night.

 

But Magnus and Madhi are busy tonight, and even though there are probably three parties they could go to, they’ve both chosen to stay in for the night. Isak knows that Jonas knows that he hasn’t been sleeping, so he’s sure this is some conspiracy he’s created to force Isak to sleep some. Weirdly enough, he doesn’t really mind.

 

It’s nice, having it just be the two of them covered in blankets, with his head tucked safely under Jonas’ arm and the laughter and conversation bubbling between them without any thought at all. It’s just like before, when they were all the other had, and Jonas has always been there for him. When his mom got bad, Jonas was the one to he hold him when he cried. When he had panic attacks so horrible he thought he’d never breathe right ever again, Jonas was the one to tuck him into bed afterwards. When he couldn’t fall asleep, Jonas was the one to stay up chatting about nothing until the morning came. Jonas is a better friend than Isak deserves.

 

“It’s just bad writing,” Jonas declares, pointing a lazy finger at computer screen. “How the hell is this so popular, again?”

 

Isak shrugs. He barely knows what’s going on, at this point. “No clue, dude. I guess ‘cause everyone’s really hot?”

 

“That must be it. Christ. Is there really no better plot-line than _girl falls in love with her sister’s ex boyfriend so now they have to break up, oh no, woe is me_?”

 

By the time they finish watching the episode, Jonas is mildly pissed off at the characters and Isak is so tired he can hardly keep his eyes open. Jonas shuts the laptop and slides it across the floor, then hurries over to turn off the light. “Let’s just sleep here.”

 

So the two of them snuggle down, Isak curled up small against Jonas’ side. Whatever it was that he felt for Jonas throughout middle school and their first year feels like a distant memory belonging to some other confused gay kid. It took some time, but his crush was little more than inevitable infatuation that he quickly recovered from after he realized that Jonas was amazing in every way, but his love for him could only ever be as deep as one for a brother. It was practically a rite of passage for a gay kid to like their straight best friend, anyway, and after Isak came out to him, he realized completely that he had never really been in love with him in the first place.

 

In the darkness of his room, Isak’s sleepiness is suddenly ripped away from him, like it always is. It shouldn’t be a surprise, but the frustration mixes with his utter exhaustion and pools into hot tears that he’s able to quickly wipe away before Jonas notices. It’s just so tiring, being unable to sleep. He is just so tired.

 

He’s wide awake now. His body actually hates him. “I made a fool out of myself in front of a guy,” he murmurs, and after a few minutes of pretending to be able to fall asleep, he’s just accepted that that isn’t going to happen for him. Ever since the bathroom incident yesterday, Isak has been replaying the moments between him and the guy over and over in his head. Leave it up to him to act like a complete imbecile in front of the most attractive person he’s ever seen in his life.

 

“Hmm?” Jonas intones sleepily. He shifts his head to face him even though it’s too dark to see anything. “Who was it?”

 

“I don’t know. That’s what I was going to ask you. I think he’s new or something.” He pauses, closing his eyes to conjure up his face again. “He’s tall and blond and has blue eyes.”

 

“So like… half of the guys that go to Nissen?”

 

“Shut up. I mean like. Really blue. And really tall. He’s hot, okay?”

 

“Okay, okay. Someone’s got a crush.” Jonas chuckles. “Um... a new, attractive, blond-haired fellow. Sorry, not ringing any bells.”

 

Isak’s not disappointed. “It’s not a crush. Jesus. I was just curious ‘cause it was a bizarre experience in the bathroom, is all. So yeah. That’s okay. I don’t care.” Really, he’s not.

 

A few minutes of silence pass between them. Isak is no closer to falling asleep. Then, Jonas says, “You know you can tell me anything, right? Like. I know you haven’t been sleeping very well. And, I know you’ve been stressed. Just. I’m here to talk. If you need it.”

 

Isak frowns. He knows that pretty much everyone knows he’s not been sleeping very well. But he thought that he’d been keeping the sudden, life-sucking anxiety a well-enough secret. Maybe Eskild was off running his mouth again. But he feels the warmth of his best friend by his side and feels okay, again. “Alright,” he whispers. “Thanks, Jonas. Same for you.”

 

“Anytime, dude.” And then Jonas wraps his arm around him and pulls him close. “Anytime.”

 

+

 

“I’m telling you, she came twice. _Twice_. Girls can do that. In real life.” Magnus stares at them with wide eyes and a big mouthful of sandwich, as if he’s just discovered the secrets to the universe. “Girls can _actually do that_.”

 

“Magnus,” Mahdi says, laughing so hard he nearly chokes on his food, “you didn’t fucking know that?”

 

“Oh, Jesus Christ, man.” Jonas shakes his head and covers his eyes, streaming tears of laughter. “The poor girls you’ve been hooking up with.”

 

“Wait, what?” Magnus looks around at them, confusion written plainly on his face. “You all knew that? Really? Before last night I thought it was only in pornos and stuff, that they all faked it. You all knew that?”

 

Isak chuckles, but he’s craning his head around the cafeteria, trying to look for the bathroom guy. He just can’t get that stupid face out of his head and that stupid concern and how stupid Isak was, nearly passing out in front of someone who looked like _that_.

 

Jonas jabs him in the side. Apparently, the conversation has moved on from Magnus’ impressive sexual knowledge and now onto Mahdi’s mother’s cooking and the horrible diarrhea it had given him for the past few days. “Hey, Isak. That guy you were asking about?” There’s a little twinkle in Jonas’ eyes that he is not a fan of. “I think his name is Even. Even Bech Næsheim. I heard that he transferred from Elvebakken a few days ago.”

 

Even. The name sounds just right in Isak’s head. He wants to say it out loud. “Oh. Cool, I guess,” he says with a shrug, even though all he can to do is keep himself from screaming the name to the mountains until the skies can hear.

 

Isak rolls his eyes at Jonas’ knowing eyebrow raise. “Not a crush, Jonas.”

 

“Who’s got a crush?” Magnus butts in.

 

Suddenly, Jonas’ eyes get wide. “Uh, Isak-” But before he can finish, someone sits down in the empty chair next to Isak.

 

It’s the guy. It’s Even. He thinks he might faint.  “Hi,” Even says, and smiles. He has dimples. Christ, he has dimples. “I’ve been looking for you since Friday. Just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Isak says, straightening in his seat and ignoring the light flutter of his stomach. “I was sick. But I’m better now.”

 

“I can see. You look much further from death, so that’s definitely a plus.”

 

“Um, I’m sorry for rushing out like that. It was a little rude, but I had a class.”

 

“No worries, really. I was just thinking about you. I needed to be sure that you were okay and everything.”

 

“I’m sorry that I worried you, then.”

 

“No, it’s fine, really. Just gave me an excuse to talk to you.”

 

Is this flirting? Isak can’t tell, but he also isn’t entirely sure whether he has a body anymore, at the moment.

 

“Anyway,” he says, “I’m Even. I don’t think I caught your name?” And if it’s even possible, his smile gets even wider.

 

“It’s Isak. Valtersen.”

 

Suddenly, Isak remembers that they have an audience. The guys are staring at them. Jonas, that little dick, has a tiny smile dancing on his lips. “Oh! Um, Even, these are my friends, I guess. Madhi, Magnus, Jonas,” he says quickly, tight-lipped. Can this get any more awkward?

 

Yes. Yes, it can. Out of seemingly nowhere, Vilde and Sana saunter up to the table.

 

“Hi!” Vilde exclaims, far too chipper to fit in this entire universe. “We really want you guys to join _kosegruppa_ this year. We’re the group leaders.”

 

His friends can deal with fending off the girls. Isak turns to Even and says, a little shyly, “It’s nice to see you again, now that I can actually stand straight.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Even asks teasingly, with that fucking look in his eyes that Isak just doesn’t understand.

 

What the hell does that mean? “Uh. Yeah.” All coherency out the window, then.

 

Even looks down at his phone and swears. “Shit, sorry. I have class.” He stands, swinging his backpack. “It was nice talking to you, Isak. The next time you almost pass out in a bathroom, let me walk you to the nurse, yeah?” And then he’s gone through the cafeteria doors, before Isak can say anything back.

 

Jonas jabs him in the side again, once Even is out of earshot. “Not a crush, my ass.”

 

“Who’s got a crush? Isak has a crush?”

 

He rolls his eyes and laughs. But he feels strangely hollow.

 

+

 

He finds it in his jacket pocket while eating breakfast the next morning. A crumpled up napkin with an eight-digit phone number on it and a little note: _thought this might be helpful, if you ever need someone to walk you to the nurse_. He tries to swallow the smile that spreads all the way across his face and refuses to leave, but Eskild catches it anyway.

 

“Hey, you.” He snaps his fingers a few times in front of Isak’s face. “What’s gotten you so happy this fine morning, hm?”

 

Isak bats Eskild’s hands out of his face and shovels a few bites of cereal into his mouth. “What? Nothing. It’s nothing. Get off.”

 

Eskild narrows his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Oh, my sad son, you should know better than to keep things from me.”

 

“Shut up, Eskild.” He dumps the rest of his cereal into the trash. His stomach is far too twisted into its usual nerves for him to eat anything more than a few bites of anything, these days. “Fuck,” he mutters, catching sight of the clock. “Noora!” he yells down the hall. “We’re gonna be late! Hurry up!”

 

She hurries into the kitchen a minute later, hair askew but red lipstick done perfectly. “Fuck, fuck,” she hisses under her breath as she hops around the kitchen, trying to pull on her boots. “I have an exam first block, fuck. Let’s go.”

 

“You’re the one who took forever!”

 

Eskild tosses Noora an apple and the two of them hustle out of the door.

 

“Hey, Isak!” Eskild calls. “You better eat your lunch!”

 

+

 

He doesn’t see Even all day. He tries to pretend like he isn’t disappointed, tries to contribute to conversations, tries to pay attention in class. And for the most part, he is successful. But his heart hurts way more than it should that night, when he finally turns off the lights and closes his eyes in another useless attempt at falling asleep.

 

It’s his genes, he knows that. The curdling anxiety is something he’s had since he was born. The fear of absolutely everything and nothing all at once, twisting and turning until it feels like he spends every other night curled up and hurting and terrified of monsters he doesn’t even know the names of.

 

He’s being stupid. He’s always being stupid.

 

It’s that stupidity or it’s that fear that drives him to pull up his phone. He already has the number saved in his contacts as _the beautiful bathroom guy_. Putting his actual name in (Even Bech Næsheim, how is it fair that he has such a beautiful name? How is it fair that he looks like that? How is it right that he decided to talk to _Isak?_ ) feels wrong, somehow. It feels too real, and he isn’t particularly interested in dealing with reality at the moment.

 

 _ny melding til:_ the beautiful bathroom guy

hey, even. it’s isak. sorry for texting you when it’s so late but i can’t sleep and i just wanted to let you know that i got your note. and i don’t need anyone towalk me to the nurse now, but maybe i will later i’m not sure haha

 

He presses _sende_ before he can stop himself, and immediately throws his phone on the ground and buries his face into his pillow. Fucking idiot. He stays like that for two minutes with his heart pounding so hard he actually worries it might just jump out of his chest, until his phone dings and he scrambles to retrieve it from the floor.

 

 _fra_ : the beautiful bathroom guy

isak! i thought you’d never text. thank god, i was worried :)

 

Jesus.

 

 _til:_ the beautiful bathroom guy

don’t worry about me, seriously

i didn’t even notice that you put anything into my pocket

how’d you do it?

 

 _fra:_ the beautiful bathroom guy

a magician never tells his secrets ;)

 

 _til:_ the beautiful bathroom guy

come on, i’m starting to think that you’re actually a professional pickpocket or something

 

 _fra:_ the beautiful bathroom guy

hmm it’s a possibility

 

He laughs at the thought of tall Even, running around the city snatching wallets and loose change from unsuspecting pedestrians.

 

 _til:_ the beautiful bathroom guy

alright, we both know you’d be a horrible thief

 

 _fra_ : the beautiful bathroom guy

i’d be better than you! you’re a shit liar

 

 _til:_ the beautiful bathroom guy

hey! i’m the best liar! ask anyone!

 

 _fra:_ the beautiful bathroom guy

ok mr. ‘i’m fine’

 

They text like that for what feels like only a few minutes. But when he looks up at the time, his mouth falls open. Three hours. They’ve been talking for three hours.

 

 _til:_ the beautiful bathroom guy

fuck i just realized how long we've been talking

 

 _fra:_ the beautiful bathroom guy

oh my god that felt like nothing

i should probably get a bit of sleep

 

Isak swallows down the sudden disappointment.

 

 _til:_ the beautiful bathroom guy

yeah yeah of course. we have class tomorrow

 

 _fra:_ the beautiful bathroom guy

it’s really really nice talking to you isak

good night <3

 

 _til:_ the beautiful bathroom guy

don’t let the bed bugs bite

 

Isak turns his phone off. Closes his eyes. And he falls asleep.

 

+

 

So it becomes his new routine. Every day for the next two weeks, they text back and forth practically non-stop. Anything fun or exciting or weird or boring or everything, really, Isak wants to tell Even. He just wants to talk to him, all the time. And when he sees Even in the halls and they smile at each other and they walk home together and they have dinner together and he can’t do anything other than smile. All the time. It’s so much less exhausting than not being happy.

 

He’s trying to open his stupid locker that he really needs to get fixed when Even suddenly appears in front of him. “Hello.”

 

“Hi,” Isak replies, and leans against the wall, all of his locker troubles suddenly far away once he sees Even and his stupidly pretty face. “How was your Spanish test?”

 

“Oh, awful,” Even says with a chuckle. “A four minus, at the very highest.”

 

“Spanish? Who cares about Spanish. A four minus is all you need, really, if you ever want to go to a Mexican or Spanish restaurant or something.”

 

Even smiles. “Very encouraging stuff, Isak. I’m sure Sra. Mendez will take that to heart when she’s grading the exams.”

 

“Hey, I’m just being realistic.”

 

“Of course you are. What class do you have, next? I have a free period, I’ll walk you there.” And then he pauses, mischievousness suddenly in his eyes. “Or. You could skip with me?”

 

Isak pauses in his resumed efforts at trying to open his locker. He is enticed, to say the least. “I just have gym. And that’s even more useless than Spanish.”

 

“Yeah…” Even waggles his eyebrows.

 

He pretends to mull it over. “Oh, but you know. That ten percent skipping thing. I wouldn’t want to get into trouble.”

 

“Come on. You know that’s just administrative propaganda. More useless than gym and Spanish combined.”

 

“Propaganda? What are you accusing our school of?” Even pushes his shoulder lightly with feigned exasperation and Isak giggles. “Okay, okay. You’ve convinced me.”

 

Even gives his locker a solid hit and it swings open. With an expression on his face that Isak can only describe as _the coolest fucking thing he’s ever seen_ , he says, “Let’s get out of here, then.”

 

+

 

Isak has his hands wrapped around his coffee. He is transfixed. He thinks this to himself about a hundred times a day, sure, but now, with the warm café lighting catching Even’s blond curls and the gentle curve of his lips, Isak wonders if he’s looking at an angel. Or at least some human reincarnation of everything good and beautiful in the world that before this moment, Isak was not privy to.

 

“Like what you see?” Even asks, a little slyly, but the effect is faltered by the whip cream on his upper lip from his ridiculously sweet ‘coffee’ drink. It’s some Christmas-inspired disaster, and just looking at it gives Isak a headache.

 

“Yeah, I like boys with mustaches.” He leans over and wipes it off with a napkin. “Oh, just kidding. Not anymore.”

 

Even grips at his heart. “No! You can’t take it back. If you like me, you like me.”

 

Isak stares and doesn’t say anything for a beat too long. Even’s eyes widen and he says quickly, “I mean, like. Jokingly, of course.”

  
“No, no.” Isak pauses. He can feel his cheeks getting bright red. “I do, you know.”

 

The smile that had faded appears as quickly as it had left. “You do, huh?”

 

“Oh, Jesus,” Isak mutters, and takes a big sip of his coffee. He’s sure that his face can’t get any redder. “Nope, nope, never mind. Taking it back.”

 

Even clutches his chest again and pretends to collapse in his chair, eyes closed and head rolled back. After a moment, he opens one eye and squints. “You can’t keep playing games like that with my heart.”

 

And Isak laughs, because Even is ridiculous and warm and wonderful.

  
He sits up and says, suddenly serious with his face a few inches away from Isak’s, “I do, too. Like you, I mean.”

 

If he could smile any bigger, the whole world would see and want to know why he is so happy. He wants to keep it a secret. He wants Even for only himself. He ducks his head, and his heart feels like it’s in its right place. “Okay,” he whispers. An inter-dimensional force pushes him forward. Their noses touch. Everything other than Even, in front of him, Even’s hands, touching his face, everything other than the only thing that matters, fades to nothing. And suddenly, they are kissing.

 

By the time they pull away, Isak is blushing so hard. Even laughs. “You are adorable when you’re flustered, you know that, right?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

And they kiss again. And everything in the whole world makes sense.

 

+

 

A few hours later, they are walking back to the _kollektiv_. Their hands graze every once in a while, and every single time their skin touches, Isak’s heart grows just a little bit more. “I shot a few scenes around here, once,” Even is saying, looking around at the houses and sidewalks and street signs that Isak passes by every single day. “By that oak tree, there. For a film class I was taking.”

 

“Yeah? What was it about?”

 

“Oh, nothing good. Something stupid and romantic and dramatic, of course. I think it was the girl realizing that the person she loved had never loved her back. And all that time she wasted loving them was just wishful thinking.” He pauses. Isak looks up at him. In the eerie street-lit night, Even is just as beautiful.

 

“That doesn’t sound stupid.”

 

Even smiles, subdued. “Thank you, Isak. It totally was, though. I should find it. Then we’ll have a good laugh.” They take a few more steps in silence. “You know,” he says, after a while, “I want to make something good. It’s always been my dream. I want to make movies that feel like real life through an unknown lens. I want to create something special.”

 

He nods, even though he doesn’t really understand. Movies are movies to him. TV is TV. Stories are stories. But he can tell that this is something that makes Even’s heart beat the way it should. So he nods, and says quietly, “I know.”

 

“When I was little, I used to watch movies with my moms all the time, in the theater. And my mamma used to whisper to me, just as the lights went dark and the opening scene started, _welcome to the magical world of the movies_. So I want to make something that brings you to a magical world.”

 

“That’s beautiful.” He can just imagine little Even, staring wide-eyed and transfixed at a huge movie screen, containing a light unknown to the real world. It makes him strangely wistful for a life that doesn’t belong to him, but it’s a good kind of sadness.

 

They stop in front of the apartment. “You should come in. Eskild promised last week that he’d make dinner for us today. It’ll be an entertaining situation.”

 

Even shakes his head. “I wish I could, but the moms are a bit annoyed that I’ve haven’t been home for dinner in a few days.”

 

“Your moms sound wonderful.” He can’t hide the odd bit of yearning in his tone. It’s not jealousy - really, it’s not. He’s just happy, that Even had lovely parents. And maybe a little sad, that he had the exact opposite.

 

“They are. They’d love to meet you.” He tilts his head a little, blue eyes searching. “We’ve never talked about your parents.”

 

Isak tries for a smile and it comes easily. Everything good comes easily, around Even. “We’ll talk about that some other time, okay?” He can’t talk about his parents now, not when the world is spinning the right way for once and the night is so perfect.  

 

“Alright.” But he looks uncertain. “Are you okay? I’m sure they won’t be too mad, if I stay.”

 

“Next time. Go, Even,” he says, and pushes him gently. “I’m fine. Get out of here. Tell your moms about the amazing, incredible, earth-shattering guy that’s been eating up your time.”

 

Even laughs, pauses, stares, and then finally relents. “Okay, okay.” He takes a few steps, then turns around and kisses him softly on the lips. Isak closes his eyes and sees the stars.

 

+

 

Eva and Noora are dancing and singing around the kitchen when he walks in.

 

“Hi,” he says with a confused, if amused, expression, and walks in slowly. It’s a mess. Uncooked pasta scattered on the floor, bowls overturned, vegetables strewn across the counter. “The fuck happened here?”

 

“Isak!” Eva cries, and runs over to him, throwing her arms over his shoulders. “I’ve missed you!”

 

He stumbles back and laughs a little in surprise, hugging her back tentatively. “I’ve missed you, too. Even though I saw you yesterday.”

 

“Dance with us!” She grabs his hands and before he really knows what’s going on, the two of them are circling the kitchen and laughing and singing while Noora screams Justin Bieber into a wooden spoon.

 

By the time the song finishes, all of them are out of breath and doubled over with giggles. Once he’s able to breathe properly again, he asks, “What happened to Eskild’s dinner promise?”

 

Noora shakes her head and lets out a laugh. “He convinced a _very_ attractive guy at the bar to pick him up, so that’s the last we’ll be seeing of him for a few days. He texted in the group chat, you didn’t see?”

 

He shakes his head and pulls out his phone, scrolling through the 40 plus notifications that he wasn’t at all aware off with . “No, I was… busy.”

 

Eva loops her arms around his neck. “Oooh,” she says, still giggling, “Busy? I missed you in gym. Were you skipping class with that dreamy, dreamy man of yours?”

 

“No,” he declares, and Noora raises her eyebrow at him. “Maybe.” He clears his throat and shakes his head, trying to clear the flush that shows up everytime he talks about Even. “Anyway,” he says, and looks around at the aftermath of the tornado that seems to have swept through the room, “Was this your attempt at making dinner?”

 

“We got…” The two girls share a look with each other and Eva giggles some more. Noora leans in for a kiss. “Sidetracked.”

 

Isak shakes his head. “Mmhmm, of course you did.” But he smiles. Seeing them happy, finally, is something he’ll never get tired off. “Well, I’ve got a shit ton of Bio to study, so I’ll see you guys later, okay?” They nod and wave goodbye. Noora already has Justin Bieber back on by the time Isak closes the door to his bedroom.

 

+

 

Biology is the only thing he is allowed to think about. He puts in his headphones ( _Have you heard of Nas?_ ), opens his textbook, and studies until his eyes start to burn. But it’s never enough. His hands start to shake halfway through virology and the words blur together by the time he gets to lesson three.

 

He can’t do this. He’ll fail his exam and he’ll drop out of school and he’ll end up like his mother. He can’t do anything.

 

The panic is familiar, and terrifying in its innately known comfort. It starts in his fingers and travels like electric shock waves to his heart and he suddenly remembers what he has willfully forgotten - no matter what he does, no matter what Even makes him feel, no matter what he tells himself: His heart will forever sit in his lungs.

 

Isak lurches to his feet, 90s rap going tinny and far away even though the volume is all the same through his ear buds. His lungs heave and his feet feel like unattached orbs he is not apart of and he doesn’t understand the paradigms of the virosphere, he doesn’t understand anything at all.

 

The sound of his phone going off jolts everything back into reality.

 

 _fra:_ mamma

_Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love;_

_according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions._

_Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin._

_For I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me._

_Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight;_

__s_ o you are right in your verdict and justified when you judge. _

_Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me. (Psalm 51)_

 

He can’t do this anymore.

 

+

 

Noora and Eva are cuddled together on the couch when he stumbles out of his room. They both turn and stare at him as he trips over some imaginary fold in the carpet and catches his balance on the couch. He looks horrible, he’s sure of it, but he’s so far gone at this point that he doesn’t even care.

 

“Isak, come sit,” Eva says carefully. She scoots over so he can squeeze in between them, and places a gentle arm over his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

 

Eva’s known about his episodes for a while, and even though Noora’s never seen him in the middle of one, Isak knows she knows to. Everyone knows, it seems, and even though that usually makes him upset, right now, he is too tired to feel anything. “Nothing.” His voice sounds wrecked. “It’s stupid.”

 

“It’s not stupid because you’re here to talk about it,” Noora says, all matter-of-fact, and she’s always been good at calling out his bullshit.

 

He looks down at his hands, tugging fretfully at his shirt. His vision is less blurred, now, and he feels a bit more present in his own life. “No, it’s stupid. My mom… she-” And he just can’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say.

 

Eva lets out a little gasp. “Is she… bad again?”

 

“No, no, she’s no worse than she always is. I’ve just been thinking about her, is all. Recently. And I have a Bio exam tomorrow and I don’t fucking understand what viruses do and I just can’t.” His voice breaks a little. He shoves his face in his hands and whispers the familiar mantra in his head: _you’re here, you’re okay, you’re here, you’re okay_.

 

There’s a few beats of silence. Eva rubs smooth circles over his back and for some reason it matches up with the words in his head. _You’re okay_ , her hand seems to be saying. _You’re okay and you’re here and you’re going to be fine._

 

Finally, Noora says, slightly haltingly, “Does this... anxiety about your mom have anything to do with Even?”

 

Isak looks up and furrows his brow. “No, I don’t think-” And then he pauses. Suddenly, he realizes that it has everything to do with Even. “Um, maybe it does.”

 

“Isak, look at me,” Noora says. He does. Her eyes are wide and earnest. “Listen to what I have to say, okay?” She waits until he nods before she starts: “Taking that jump with Eva was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. And that was after I knew, for certain, that what we felt for each other was real. It’s so much scarier than I ever imagined. But I will live with that fear every single fucking day of my life if it means I get to spend a minute with her, acting on the love that we feel. I don’t know specifically what your mom’s attitudes are or what that means for you. But I do know that what I feel for Eva made everything worth it. So it’s up to you to decide whether Even is worth it for you.”

 

He looks back down, at his hands, intertwined with Eva’s. She squeezes them, and he smiles. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Noora rustles his hair.

 

“Anytime, idiot.”

 

+

 

He wakes up at three in the morning with a heart in his lungs. Air pretends his mouth doesn’t exist. His cells have forgotten that he needs oxygen to survive. He can’t breathe.

 

He hasn’t had an anxiety attack this bad in years. He swears his entire life passes through his eyes as he lays there, curled up small and useless, sweating and shaking and dying, he’s dying, he must be. This isn’t normal. He can’t be normal. He can’t be okay. He can’t breathe.

 

Nausea hits him like a freight train to the chest. He stumbles to his feet, heaving, and throws up in his trash can filled with crumpled up study guides and essays he’d tossed away.

 

His phone dings a few times and in his peripheral, between gags, he can see that they’re messages from Even, sending him song lyrics.

 

The thought makes him even more nauseous as the truth of the matter plays over and over in his head like a defunct record layer. He shouldn’t force Even to be with him, not when he’s so fucked up that he can’t even sleep. Not when he was born with something innately wrong with his heart. Not when he was born just like his mom - crazy and sick and fucked up beyond belief.

 

He cries and cries and never falls asleep.

 

+

 

“Isak, honey,” Eskild says. He’s standing by the door. Isak buries himself further into his blankets. “You have class in five minutes. You took too long so Noora’s already left.”  

 

“Go away,” he croaks out. He feels like an old dish towel that was left to rot in a basement for ten years. He’s exhausted and drained and light-headed like he usually is after an episode, but anxiety is still curdling in his stomach. The idea of going to school right now makes him want to throw up again. “I’m sick.”

 

He hears Eskild walk up to him and make a low noise of disgust at his trash can. “Yeah, I can tell. I’ll clean this up for you, okay? Get some rest.”

 

Isak says nothing, and he assumes that Eskild leaves after a while.

 

He supposes that he falls asleep after a while, because when his eyes open again, it’s dark again outside and his head is pounding. There’s a glass of water and a sandwich on his nightstand, but just looking at the food makes him want to vomit again. Instead he grabs his phone and scrolls through his notifications.

 

 _6 tapt anrop fra:_ beautiful even

 _2 tapt anrop fra:_ jonas

 

 _fra:_ beautiful even

i heard that you’re sick :(

do you want me to come over after school to make you feel better?

hey, call me when you can?

are you okay?

pick up the phone?

i’m worried

i called eskild and he said that you’ve been sleeping

call me when you wake up please <3

 

 _fra_ : the motherfucken boys

magnus/big dumbass: isak!!! i need ur answers on the bio sheet!!!!!!!!!

jonas: mags do you ever do your own fuckig homework

magnus/big dumbass: i forgot ok

 

 _fra_ : gay guru eskild

you better eat that sandwich

i know you’ve been missing dinner

DRINK WATER!!!!

 

 _fra:_ jonas

your BOYFRIEND is worried about you ;)

are you okay?

text me when you can Eva told me you had a panic attack last night

 

He ignores all of the ones from his friends and closes his eyes at Even’s, guilt and anxiety and all bad things twisting in his stomach. He doesn’t deserve friends like the ones he has. He doesn’t deserve Even, especially, not when he causes him so much unnecessary worry all of the time because he’s too fucked up to know how to process emotions correctly.

 

He has two _nye meldinger_ from his mother.

 

 _fra:_ mamma 

 _But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord_ _Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God._

_(Corinthians 6:11)_

 

 _Purify me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; Wash me, and I shall be whiter than_ _snow. (Psalms 51:7)_

 

Tears come easily without Even. This is the life he is supposed to live. This is the life that he deserves.

 

+

 

He stays in bed for two days, only getting up to use the bathroom or throw up. With every missed day, dread grows and grows until it becomes the only thing that Every morning, Eskild walks up to him and feels his forehead and tuts at Isak’s barely eaten food.

 

Every day after school, Even comes to the door, but Isak tells Eskild to tell him that he’s not feeling well. And it’s true enough that Eskild just shakes his head and does as he’s told.

 

His phone is still blowing up. Concerned messages from his friends and missed calls and everything he doesn’t care about except for the texts from Even, which fizzled out this morning to what must be the final message he’ll ever get from him.

 

 _fra_ : beautiful even

let me know when you’re ready to talk.

 

He cried for two hours after reading it.

 

Eskild comes home from work that afternoon and stomps into the room, armed with an air freshener and a book. “What are you doing?” Isak croaks from his mountain of blankets as he watches his roommate spray a generous amount of lavender throughout the room, then plop himself down on the empty side of the bed.

 

“I’m staying with you to make sure you don’t do something you regret.” His voice is uncharacteristically soft. When Isak looks up, he sees a sadness in his eyes that he hasn’t ever seen before. “Also, this room smelt like an actual trash compound. Past tense. Now, it’s a trash compound with a bit of lavender mixed in.”

 

So he lays there, alternating between shaking and crying, then being numb and apathetic. Eskild runs his fingers through Isak’s greasy hair and murmurs quiet nothings when he starts to cry, but nothing works. After a few hours of this, Eskild says, “Even has been at the door every single day, honey. He’s worried about you.”

 

And this makes Isak cry harder.

 

“Oh, it’s okay, it’s okay, kiddo,” Eskild murmurs, clearly distressed at the hot tears that are soaking through his shirt. “Did something happen with him?”

 

“No,” he says, through his sobs. “No, nothing happened. He’s perfect. He’s so perfect.”

 

“Okay,” Eskild replies slowly, confusion clearly written in the tone of his voice. “What happened, then?”

 

“Nothing. Nothing happened. Nothing at all.”

 

+

 

“He’s clearly depressed.”

 

Isak blinks himself from his sleep and frowns. Oh, God, his fucking head. He drinks the entire glass of water sitting on his bedside table and feels slightly more human. His phone tells him it’s 20:32, and he quickly turns it off before he can read his notifications.

 

“Yeah, no shit.” It’s Noora’s voice coming through muffled, from outside of his room. “We need to bring him somewhere, Eskild. He’s barely eaten anything in three days. I'm... worried." 

 

“Like where? There’s no fucking way he’s gonna agree to that, and we’re not taking him anywhere without his consent.”

 

“I don’t know, a clinic? His dad’s? A hospital? He’s sick, Eskild. He needs help.”

  
Isak sits up and rubs his eyes. He feels… better. Less like the whole world is crushing him from all sides. He thinks, maybe, that he can get up. When he stands, vertigo throws him off his balance and he clutches at the bedpost to keep from falling over. He’s okay, though. He’s standing and he’s breathing and he feels okay.

 

Eskild and Noora start when he opens the door. They’re both leaned against opposite walls, talking in serious tones, and their eyes widen.

 

“Hey,” he says, his voice much weaker than he imagined. “No hospital. I’m okay.”

 

Noora takes a few careful steps forward. “No hospital,” she confirms, but if anything, she looks more worried.  Eskild, on the other hand, lets out a deep sigh of relief. “Let’s sit down in the kitchen, okay? Get you something to eat.”

 

He nods shakily. He feels better, but the lights are a little too bright and his stomach a little too empty. If he stands for a few minutes longer, he might collapse. Noora takes him by one arm, Eskild by the other. And the three of them make their way down the hall.

 

+

 

Eskild forces a bowl of soup down his throat and sits him down on the couch. Isak watches his roommates bustle and whisper around the kitchen, but he doesn’t really see anything. He’s not entirely sure what’s going on, but Linn is sitting next to him on the couch and playing with his hair and maybe this is better than his dark, lonely room. The bit of energy that had catapulted him from his room was all used up somewhere between there and here, and now he sits, completely dazed.

  
It takes him a while to realize that Eskild is in front of him and trying to talk. “Isak,” Eskild says, and it’s all gentle again. “There’s someone you need to talk to.”

 

Isak blinks once, and then suddenly, Even is in front of him. His roommates are gone.

 

“Hi, Isak,” Even says, in a hushed tone, and Isak blinks again. Everything is moving about in slow motion, but Even is the only thing in full color.

 

“Hi,” Isak replies, and before he’s really even sure what he is trying to say: “I’m sorry.”

 

“For what, baby?” Even sits down next to him. His hair is messy and slightly wet. Isak’s hand rises and catches one of the darkened strands.

 

“Were you in the shower?” he asks. Even looks so nice, even when his hair is wet, though this is hardly a surprise. He looks nice all the time, and he tells him this.

 

A small, sad smile appears on his lips. “Yes, I was. Thank you. I haven’t seen you in a few days.”

 

It takes him a few moments to process this. Has it been a few days? It feels like just a couple of hours ago that they’d been at the café. That can’t be right. “I was sick. I think. And I felt really bad. I’m sorry.”

 

“Why are you apologizing?”

 

“I’m not supposed to get sick like that.”

 

He tenses. “You’re allowed to not feel well, Isak. Who told you that you weren’t?”

 

“Nobody, really. My mom is sick, did you know that?”

 

He shakes his head and bits of water sprinkle through the air. Isak smiles a little, and Even traces a soft finger on the side of his curved lip. “No, I didn’t know that.”

 

“She’s always been sick. For a long time, I thought that it was my dad’s fault. That when he left, he did something to her. But I think that’s just the way she is.” Even’s finger wipes away a little water that he didn’t know had been leaking from his eyes. “Oh. I’m crying.”

 

Even nods, and there’s wetness pooling in his eyes, too. Isak lifts a hand and wipe away the few tears that escape down Even’s cheeks. “Don’t cry. I don’t want you to cry.”

 

“I’m not. But it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be sad and it’s okay to need help.”

 

“I know. But I don’t need to.  My mom, she - she needed help. She’s not okay. But I’m okay, Even, I swear, I’m okay. I’m not like her. I’m not crazy. I don’t need help.” And then there are more tears, falling falling falling down his face and Even can’t wipe them away fast enough they just keep on falling.

 

And Even is crying, too, and then the both of them are just sitting there, crying.

 

+

 

Awareness comes back slowly.

 

The sound of the shower. The tears being wiped off of his face. Hands leading him into the bathroom. Tile under bare feet. Water on his head, mixing with the soap and the tears.

 

Even, washing his hair, eyes concentrated and clear. Even, kissing him with a softness that makes Isak’s heart beat slow and steady. Even, whispering mindless words and filling the deafening silence with beautiful things.

 

Even, Even, Even.

 

+

 

They lay down to sleep on the floor of the living room. His room is disgusting, and no matter how much lavender spray is in the air, there needs to be a thorough washing down before anyone can step in it, never mind sleep in the bed. So Even places blankets and pillows on the carpeted floor. Isak lays his head on Even’s chest, and feels that much closer to being human.

 

In the covenant of the darkness, everything spills forth.

 

“I’m bipolar,” Even says quietly, into Isak’s damp hair. “I was waiting for the right moment to tell you, and I guess this is as good as we can get.”

 

“Oh. That’s… nice to know.” He feels better, but strange, still, lucidity coming back slower than ever before. And then the memories of what he said earlier come rushing back and he wonders if it’d be okay for him to just throw himself off of the nearest building. “Oh, Jesus. Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it seem like you’re crazy, or - or that there’s something wrong with you because you’re getting help, or anything stupid like that. That’s not what I meant.”

 

“I know, I know,“ Even murmurs. “I’m not mad at you. Really, I’m not. I just… I think that there’s something going on with you that you need to deal with. You need help. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

 

He takes in a hitching breath. When he speaks, his voice is small and brittle. “I know. My brain knows that when it’s not all messed up. But there’s this horrible voice telling me that if I do anything like that, then I’ll be crazy. Like properly crazy. That I’m like my mom. And I can’t let you deal with that. No one deserves do deal with me, when I’m fucked up like that.”

 

“Isak, when I was bad, I was _bad_. And it took a long time for me to realize that not only did I need help, I deserved it. That being mentally ill doesn’t mean that I’m unlovable, and needing help doesn't make you unlovable, either. I wish you could see that.”

 

“I know that,” Isak says, then sighs, all the fight deflating out of him in an instant. “You’re like. _So_ lovable.” Even chuckles and pulls him closer. “And I know that my mom isn’t bad for being sick. And it’s not her fault and she didn’t mean to do anything that she did and she’s not okay but that’s okay because she’s trying to get better.” His voice breaks, and of course he’s crying again. “It’s just, when she got sick, my life got a hundred times worse. And her meds made her feel horrible. And she said that therapy was useless and I just, I don’t know. I don’t know why I feel horrible about it all. Or why I just feel so bad about everything, sometimes. I don’t know what's wrong with me.”

 

"There is nothing wrong with you. You hear me?" Even brushes away the tears and places a kiss on the top of his head. “It’s scary. It’s so scary, getting help. But you’re not alone. I’m here with you, every step of the way, okay?”

 

Isak hums tonelessly in agreement, then sniffles a few more times. He’s so drained and Even’s body is so warm next to his.

 

“I love you,” he murmurs, after a few minutes of silence, and he feels Even’s smile grow against the top of his head.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

+

 

When his eyes open, the sun is streaming bright morning through the windows. Even isn’t laying next to him anymore, and a brief moment of panic passes over him before he hears the bustling in the kitchen. The smell of breakfast jolts him to full awakeness, with surprise. He hasn’t smelled freshly scrambled eggs in years, probably. So he sits up, his joints aching a little in protest over sleeping on the floor, and squints through sleep-dazed eyes at the scene in front of him.

 

It’s Even and Eva. Making breakfast. Eskild, Noora, Linn, and Jonas are sitting around the kitchen table, drinking coffee and chatting away. Bizarre would be an understatement.

 

“Uh, good morning,” he mutters, walking over to the sink and filling a glass up with water. He rubs a hand through his tousled hair and gives Even a poke behind the shoulder blades. “The fuck is going on?”

 

“It’s called breakfast, Issy,” Eskild declares, then points a commanding finger to the open chair next to him. “Sit. You’re eating.”  

 

He’s too tired and confused to complain, so he sits. Even turns around and waves at him with the spatula. Isak waves back with his hand, thoroughly bemused.

 

“Hey, man,” Jonas says, and they do a little handshake. “Eva called me about free breakfast, so of course I had to show up. How’ve you been?” He’s all casual, of course he is, but Isak doesn’t miss the obvious concern in his voice. He remembers, suddenly, that it’s been four days since he’s seen his best friend and essentially the rest of the world, and the thought of all of those unacknowledged notifications makes his stomach hurt.

 

“Better, now.” It’s true - he feels so much closer to human now than he has in weeks. “I’m sorry, dude. For not replying to texts and whatever. It was kind of rough for a second there, but I’m fine.”

 

Jonas nods, all easy-going smiles with him. “Don’t worry about it. I said I was here for you, so I’m here for you.”

 

Isak grins and nods, “I’m here for you, too, man.”

 

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Noora says, leaning forward onto her folded hands with a little smile. “Warms my heart, you two.” Eskild mirrors her position and lets out an exaggerated sigh, then, “My children! All of you growing up so fast.”

 

“You guys are impossible.”

 

“Breakfast!” Eva calls out, and slides the plates forward with a flourish. She stops behind Isak to give him a big hug from behind. “I love you, silly boy,” she whispers, and he grins back up at her.

 

“Finally!” Jonas exclaims, already shoving food in his mouth, and earns himself a solid cuff on the back of his head.

 

They all scooch down to make room, and Even squeezes next to Isak. “How are you feeling?” he asks, handing him a slice of toast topped with salmon and scrambled eggs.

 

Isak lets out a deep breath. “Good. Right now, I’m good.” He takes a bite of the toast and can’t bites back a moan. “Oh, fucking Christ. Amazing. This is amazing. You’re amazing.”  

 

Even laughs, deep and hearty and real, and Isak kisses him because he just can’t deal with not doing that, at the moment.

  
His friends bicker over scrambled eggs in the background. Breakfast is delicious. His boyfriend is beautiful. And maybe is this the life he deserves.

 

+

 

Of course, nothing comes easy like that.

 

Even and Isak sit in the waiting room, hand-in-hand. Dr. Skrulle refers them to a psychiatrist. And then there is another waiting room to wait in. But they do it, hand-in-hand.

 

He is diagnosed. Panic disorder and chronic insomnia and major depressive disorder. He takes in the doctor’s words with tight lips. Nods where he is supposed to. Holds the prescriptions tightly in one hand and Even’s even tighter in the other. Before they leave the office, he stops in the bathroom and vomits and shakes and does not breathe correctly.

 

But Even is there. Even holds his hair back. Even brings him home. Even tucks them both under blankets on the couch and turns on a Baz Luhrmann film and talks until Isak remembers how to breathe again.

 

It is not easy. But it is life.

 

And Eskild throws kisses over his face. And Eva hugs him long and hard. And Noora tells him about her own mental health struggles. And Jonas sends him memes. And Even kisses him and holds him and loves him.

 

This is the life he deserves.

 

**Author's Note:**

> tusen takk!!
> 
> this is way too self-indulgent lol.  
> (also jonas and isak cuddle all the time oKAY i don't make the rules.)
> 
> i'm thinking of writing a companion piece to this about eva and noora and them being in loooove, so if that ever happens it'll be in a month or two. 
> 
> feedback is very much appreciated and makes my heart go boom boom <3


End file.
